


Confessions of Starlight

by orphan_account



Category: The Guy Who Didn't Like Musicals - Team StarKid
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Angst with a Happy Ending, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Paul needs a hug, References to Depression, chai coffee
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-03-08
Updated: 2020-03-08
Packaged: 2021-02-28 20:47:46
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,180
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23063449
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: Ted somehow manages to survive the apocalypse with some other familiar faces, but a certain memory comes to him during his time as an infected about his friend Paul. Finally seeing the man after everything only manages to spark his worry deeper when they are face to face.
Relationships: Paul Matthews & Emma Perkins, Paul Matthews & Ted, Paul Matthews/Ted
Comments: 2
Kudos: 73





	Confessions of Starlight

When Ted wakes up he’s on a cot. It’s cold and he feels like shit, but he miraculously doesn’t feel dead and frankly that’s enough for him to breathe a sigh of relief. Better yet he doesn’t feel like singing a fucking song about it. His eyes blearily take in the people in black uniforms walking in and out of the open doorway and it takes a moment for him to realize that he’s in a medical tent. Is he even out of Hatchetfield?

“You’re up!” a nurse greets with a kind smile in his peripheral vision.

“Wha-what the fuck..?” he mutters in confusion, allowing her to help him up into a sitting position with no resistance.

She begins taking his vitals. Ted takes the moment gain his bearings. His hand moves up to his neck and slides down to his collarbone but there’s no hole or sign of being shot. His fingers press over his skin again and there’s a small rise of his skin around the side of his upper collarbone. It feels like scar tissue. He narrows his eyes in confusion, not entirely trusting his brain at this point and tries to look down at it.

Maybe it was all a nightmare.

“You were lucky.” The nurse mutters quietly, putting a band over his arm to test his blood pressure. “We don’t know the specific details, but General McNamara’s guess as to why you survived is because you had only been recently turned when the meteor was destroyed. You still regained the benefit of the virus’ cell enhancing structure to keep you alive, but your regular body wasn’t completely destroyed and reintegrated by the virus itself.”

Ted doesn’t really know what to say to that. He doesn’t understand much of what she’s talking about, and he has a feeling she might not either.

This is all probably new territory.

He can’t remember much, everything seems fuzzy, a blur and smear of colour in his memory but not fully there. Small flashes of things come back to him but only quick moments in time.

_“I’ve never been happy…”_

Those words come back clear from his memory and suddenly he’s back at the Starlight Theatre, watching his friend and coworker on his knees in front of him, his shoulders in a defeated slump. There’s a sickly blue spotlight illuminating his tired form and all Ted can think is what a terrible time for Paul to admit such a thing, when all of his friends are zombies and he’s walking into a suicide mission.

“Well then son, I didn’t think you had it in you, but here you are.” A voice grabs his attention.

It’s the asshole that shot him in the first place.

He reflexively reaches out for the nearest object; which happens to be a pillow so that’s fucking useless, to defend or attack with but the General just sighs and yanks it from his grip. Ted watches with trepidation as the man throws the pillow behind him casually, sucking on his cigarette between his lips for a moment before turning his attention back on him.

“Hold on now there jimbo, I’m not your enemy here. The name’s General McNamara, I work for a specialized branch of the U.S. military, and you son, are one lucky son of a bitch.”

“Am I?” Ted laughs harshly in reply, a reflex to get pissed off when he’s threatened.

“We’ll see in just a moment I suppose. Tell me son, do you like coffee?”

Ted nods, running a tongue across his front teeth. “Yeah…sure I do, but uh-what the hell does that matter anymore?” He mutters, voice shamefully cracking in his response.

The man doesn’t answer. “And what about musicals, do you like those?”

Ted shakes his head, an exhale falling from his lips. “Fuck no, not anymore. Not anymore.”

There’s silence in response which causes cold sweat to bead on Ted’s forehead, wondering if that was the wrong answer. There’s a harsh clap on his shoulder, causing him to jump but the General giving him a nod of approval which sends a burst of relief through his tired and confused brain.

“The virus was destroyed, and there are even a few survivors. A never before happenstance...maybe something can finally be figured out from this.” The man says, more to himself than anything before he pulls away and straightens up. “Now as for you Ted you’ll be taken care of, don’t you worry. We’ll give you a new start and you will be able to leave this behind you. An agent will brief you more with the details.”

He doesn’t say anything in return, he doesn’t think he could even if he had the words. It’s over, just like that? What about the virus? What about Hatchetfield?

What about his friends?

Watching the General leave stirs a panic with him. “Sir! Wait you uh-you said, there were survivors?” he asks, his voice raspy with misuse.

“There are two more civilians that survived besides you Ted. Along with them, I suppose I too, am a survivor to some extent, as well as three of my troops that made it in the end. That’s a pretty good percentage considering the previous attempts I’d say-but if you’ll excuse me, there is far too much to be done. I simply don’t have the time.” The man says, checking his watch before turning and exiting the tent, only leaving Ted with a fresh cycle of questions.

“Well, you’re good to go!” the nurse chimes in, startling him away from his stare from the entrance.

“What?” he asks dumbly.

“Your vitals are normal, if not a bit elevated, but considering the circumstances that’s plenty normal. You have a couple of bumps and bruises, which will heal in due time.” She reassures him, her red lipstick standing out against her white coat. “You’re free to go get some fresh air and walk around a bit if you’d like. Agent Crane will come gather you when she’s ready for your testimony.”

Testimony?

He has so much to ask but instead of sticking around to ask, he slips off the cot and out of the tent without another word. This entire situation is mind-boggling and getting answers to his questions won’t actually help with that. It’s chilly outside, and the sun isn’t quite up yet. The sky has lightened with the promise or morning but it’s still dimly lit outside. Ted doesn’t know how long he has been under for but gets a feeling that more information will be his interrogation later.

Whatever that means.

He inhales the crisp early morning air, swallowing thickly as he gazes out into the distance. The city looms a good distance away, apparently this site is set up on the outskirts of it. He’s not out of Hatchetfield fully, he’s just distanced from it. Ted wonders if it’s too much of a risk to let them get off of the island yet, if they’re waiting because they don’t trust him or the other survivors who might have been infected. He rubs a shaky hand under his chin, clearing his sore throat lightly.

The site looks like something out of a movie. Pop up tents, some soldiers of McNamara’s team roaming around, standing lights illuminating the area in a bold white light. Ted isn’t really sure what he’s supposed to be doing, but the nurse told him to get some air and like hell if he’s going to go back inside willingly if he can freely rom for a bit.

It’s only now that he realizes he’s still in his office uniform and doesn’t know whether he should be appalled or grateful that he wasn’t changed into some ugly ass hospital gown. But that only causes more questions. Did the doctors even give him a full examination? Do emergency pop up tents even provide gowns with such quick and desperate circumstances? How long was he actually out for? Now it’s more prudent to the answer to this question because he would really not rather smell like a sewer.

“Your fucking insane if you think you can stay in Hatchetfield after this!” shouts a familiar voice.

Emily? Erma…something or another. The loud cranky barista.

His footsteps automatically turn to the sound of her voice, hope thrumming in his heart like a rhythm. Sure, they were basically strangers but after going through something this big bonds people together in ways that can’t really be described.

Ted walks around more, eventually turning the corner and around the tent when he finally comes upon her. She’s angry, her arms are thrown in the air and she’s pacing slightly.

“Listen to me Paul! Hatchetfield is _fucked_. You’re crazy if you think that they are going to try and rebuild it or try and save it. But we can be safe and-and just start brand new. Start that pot farm and, do something fucking good for once in my life. You could be there, with me!” she rants, turning her attention back to-

Paul.

Ted exhales shakily, emotions rolling around like a tidal wave.

Paul is alive.

Paul is fucking alive.

The man is sitting on a folding chair against the wall of the tent, resting his elbows on his thighs. He looks absolutely exhausted, his gaze averted to the floor. His hair has lost all form at this point, falling from its sideswept position with numerous strands loose and in front of his face. His shoulders are slumped and his white dress blouse sleeves are rolled up to the elbow. There’s dirt on his shirt and face, and maybe even what looks like dried blood which gets Ted’s heart beating in anxiety.

“I can’t go with you, Emma.” Paul mutters softly, holding his head.

Emma freezes, her hands dropping as she sizes up the man in front of her with a frustrated frown. “Fine…you-you don’t have to Paul. I just thought that-I mean after everything we could…” she trails off, biting her lip.

“I’m-sorry. This isn’t how I wanted- “

“No.” she sighs. “No look you don’t have to apologize. You didn’t do anything.” Emma mutters, tucking a messy brown strand behind her ear. “You didn’t do anything…” she mutters again, but this time it sounds slightly bitter as if there’s a double meaning behind her words. “Look it’s fine, we’ll talk later okay? I’m gunna go see if one of the guards has some caffeine that isn’t actually coffee, because holy shit I could use some of that right now.”

“Okay…okay.” Paul replies feebly, making no effort to stop her.

Ted watches her go with a raise of his eyebrow. He’d call out to both of them, but he frankly doesn’t know what’s-her-face like he does Paul, so if he can talk to the man alone, he’s going to take advantage of that. That doesn’t stop his footsteps from growing quicker in anticipation as he walks towards his friend, absolute relief flooding his pores just looking at the tired silhouette.

“Paul?” he asks as he approaches, watching the other man’s posture jerk upright frantically upon hearing his voice.

He meets Paul’s pale stormy blue eyes and a smile is on his face before he can help himself. Paul wrenches himself to his feet, looking almost fearful at his approach.

“ _T-Ted?_ ” he asks, his voice barely a whisper on the morning wind. “Ted is that-really- “

“Yeah, it’s me Paul.” he smiles heartily, the warmth in his voice overflowing with happiness that his friend is here standing in front of him, alive.

But Paul still stares at him frozen, hands drawn up to his chest. “It’s… _really_ you Ted?”

He pauses in his approach, raising an eyebrow at the man. Is it so hard to believe he might be alive? Only then do the implications slam back into his brain. He was infected, it’s only natural for Paul to think he might not be himself. Ted has a brief memory of seeing Paul at some point but when he tries to focus on the memory too hard, it slips from his fingers.

“It’s really me Paul! I fuckin’ hate musicals now. Waste of a perfectly good form of fuckin’ art.” He drones with an agitated undertone. “Jesus you could act a little happier to see me!”

Apparently, the negative attitude is all Paul needs for validation because the man launches himself the remaining few steps that was between them and throws his arms around him in a hug. He freezes for a moment, mainly just because this is so new. Paul isn’t really a super touchy guy. It doesn’t take long for him to throw caution to the wind and hug the guy back though, they’ve been through plenty and he thinks a hug is warranted. Paul’s hands clutch at his shirt tightly, a shaky breath tumbling from the man’s lips.

It worries him. Just a bit.

“Ted.” Paul mutters. “Ted I can’t believe-I can’t-it’s you...“ he chokes burying his head into the crook of Ted’s shoulder. “It’s _you_ …”

“Hey…” Ted mutters with light worry, patting Paul on the back. “We’re uh, fine Paul, yeah? We’re fine.” He says in an attempt to reassure the other man, but that only causes another strangled exhale and Ted is worried that Paul is actually attempting to not cry on his shirt.

“Okay-” Paul breathes. “Okay...okay. We’re okay.” he repeats softly. “We’re okay- “

Ted frowns, letting his hand linger on Paul’s back in an attempt to be a supportive presence. “Yeah, we’re okay.”

As okay as they can be anyways.

Eventually Ted pulls back to get a look at the other man, but Paul is looking at the floor again which agitates him. He rests his hands on the man’s shoulders, enjoying the fact that he can actually still do this at all. Someone is alive that he trusts and likes enough to actually embrace and touch still, and Ted is so grateful for that.

General McNamara said only two other civilians had survived besides him. That means Paul and Emma were the other survivors. That information also allows him to arrive to the true consequences of this alien virus.

Everyone else is dead.

Charlotte, her scumbag of a husband, Bill, their boss, that crazy professor with the good musical idea…everyone else in Hatchetfield.

And the worst part is that Ted had played a personal role in at least one of those deaths because of his selfishness.

But Paul is here. Paul is alive. Paul-

Ted looks at his weary friend, his hands squeezing lightly the other’s shoulders.

Paul is a very good man.

Looking back on it all, Paul was the last person Ted had expected to throw himself down on the line for others. The man has always been a nice enough guy, but a bit quiet and socially nervous. Awkward as hell might be a better way to describe it.

During the apocalypse though, there was a brave and selfless side revealed that Ted never imagined could be buried down in there. The man had protected Emma like a guard dog, held Charlotte when Sam made a reappearance and even soothed her when she broke down in her emotional rambles. He also went with Bill on a near impossible trip, and then came back for Emma and him, and saved them from that crazy professor.

And, Ted remembers Paul at the Starlight Theatre. He doesn’t know how he does, but he remembers, even if they are just washed out glimpses of the moment. It was a true suicide mission. Paul singing, Paul throwing the grenade at his own feet.

What a fucking idiot, why would he throw the grenade on the fucking ground at his feet instead of creating distance between him and the meteor?

Paul eventually does lift his head, and the expression he wears is something Ted finds difficult to describe. He looks weary, exhaustion lining all of his features, but there’s something else in his posture and especially in his eyes that raises red flags in Ted’s mind.

That same memory chooses this moment to slam into his mind and he’s back inside the theatre. Paul is on his knees, shoulders slumped in a similar manner of defeat. Thats sickly blue spotlight shining from above and the thoughts in Ted’s mind that aren’t his own. The theatre is dark and dusty, the stars shine above from the hole in the wall.

And then he hears Paul open his mouth and sing:

_“I’ve never been happy…”_

“Ted?” Paul calls to him softly in concern, snapping him out of his memories.

He consciously relaxes his grip on the man’s shoulders. Paul is looking at him with concern, more alert when his attention is on a friend than on himself. Ted wonders why Paul was so willing to throw his life away for any of them. Why Paul was so willing to kill himself to destroy the meteor when he knew everyone was already infected. Why Paul even now, is looking at him with something akin to desperate hope when Ted fucking left him there to die in the hands of an infected victim.

“Ted?” Paul repeats, reaching out softly to place a hand on Ted’s own. “Are you okay?”

“I uh-I want you to know that I’m-really happy you’re okay, Paul.” Ted rushes out, swallowing thickly to try and push down his emotions.

He thinks he might know something that he was never supposed to know about Paul.

Something he doesn’t deserve to know just because he had seen the man at his lowest when he himself was a singing parasite. Seeing Paul trembling under the limelight, feeling his fear and his pain, watching him so alone against all the odds.

Paul protected everyone else with no preservation for his own life, but when he was alone, his fear truly came out to reveal just how brave the other man had been to begin with. Ted doesn’t think it’s very fair that Paul had to be so strong for all of them in the first place only for barely any of them to fucking survive this hellhole.

It wasn’t fair.

It isn’t fair.

Ted runs his tongue along his teeth, slowly withdrawing his hands from the man’s shoulders. “Are you uh, are you, you know- _okay?_ ”

He watches as Paul robotically nods several times. “I’m okay.” Paul quickly replies, no inflection in his tone.

He narrows his eyes.

“You’re a shitty liar, Paul.” He mutters, watching the other tense.

“No really, I’m-I’m okay. I’m okay.” The frazzled man repeats, his hands coming together to fiddle in a nervous habit.

“Paul- “

“No! Look Ted, I’m-It’s been a lot. And…” Paul trails off, his eyes falling to the floor again.

Ted has half a mind to scold him but instead he decides to look closer. He doesn’t like what he sees because Paul is clenching his jaw tightly, rapidly blinking back tears that are springing to his eyes.

“Paul…” Ted tries again, his voice growing soft with concern.

“They were all right there and I couldn’t _do_ anything Ted. I couldn’t do anything. Bill and Charlotte and-I gave them the gun and I didn’t check on her and-” he cuts himself off, pressing the heel of his palm to his eye with a strangled sob. “They’re all _dead_ and-and I’m-I’m okay but I- _why_ should it only be me that’s-that’s okay when they don’t get the chance?”

Ted doesn’t think that Paul is actually okay for one second of his life.

“Do you blame me for leaving Charlotte alone with the keys?” Ted barks out, half wanting to know what Paul would actually say and half wanting to teach the man about realistic expectations.

Paul looks at him with a tearful gaze, and it’s only now that Ted can identify the emotion in his eyes which is a deep and profound melancholy.

He watches Paul frown. “Of course not, Ted.”

“So why would you blame yourself for that, huh?” Ted asks. “ _I’m_ the one who left her with the key, literally, to her death Paul. So, if you don’t blame me, you sure as hell can’t blame yourself, you fuckin’ noodle.”

“But- “

“And you know Bill would have gone either way, you _know_ this. So, what the _hell_ are you doing placing something like that on your shoulders? We’re alive Paul, we’re _alive_. You gotta focus on that first, focus on whatever the hell is supposed to come next. I uh saw you talkin’ to what’s her face-”

“Emma.” Paul corrects gently.

“Emma, sure. Sounds like she wants you to come with her, looks like you finally scored the big one, right? Maybe you can be happy and we can all just say fuck this place and move onto a better- “

Paul smiles gently, sadness glimmering his eyes which causes his words to falter and die out entirely.

“No, I can’t just move on Ted. Hatchetfield has been my home for my entire life. And Emma, she couldn’t be happy with me. I can’t be with her.”

“Well why the fuck not Paul?”

“Because she wants to forget!” the man exclaims back with some fire in his tone. “She wants to just move on and start a-a _pot_ farm, and make a new life for herself. I- “Paul fidgets, and Ted can see the man’s fingers digging sharply into his skin as his hands form fists. “I can’t…move on like that. And eventually she will see that and she will find the parts of me she doesn’t like and I’ll only end up slowing her down.”

_“I’ve never been happy…”_

Ted shakes his head, the words reappearing like a ghost in his mind. “What the hell else are you supposed to do? What are we supposed to do if we don’t start a new life after all of this? We _deserve_ to after everything we’ve been through!”

“I…I’ve never thought that far ahead.” Paul confesses softly.

This should be the part where Ted yells at him for being such an idiot. For being so naïve or air-headed that Paul doesn’t plan for the future. But, Ted knows better now why that is. It isn’t Paul’s lack of foresight, he’s well aware the man is intelligent enough to do these things if he desired. But Paul hasn’t planned because…he can’t.

“You’ve never been happy.” Ted mutters softly and he can physically see the way the other’s frame tenses so hard that there’s visible movement. “I heard you say that. I _remember_ that, from the Starlight Theatre. I don’t know _why_ I remember that, but I do. Maybe hearing you sing that shocked me out of the damn virus for a second.”

Paul has gone slightly pale, and Ted doesn’t really know why he opened his mouth to begin with. He’s not the best at talking, or at least not talking of this sort. He’s not good at reassurance as much as he is with coercion.

“Is that why you don’t want to go with her? You don’t think you’re good enough, so you just don’t want to try?” Ted presses.

“That’s most of it yeah. And-I guess I just don’t want her to see what you apparently do. She’s nice, and smart, and funny, but we’re not meant for each other. She can move on and I’m…”

“What?”

“I’m-I just want to stay and help Hatchetfield in any way I can. I don’t _want_ to forget Ted.”

“Jesus, you don’t have to forget Paul, but you can’t just stay either! You can go wherever the fuck you want I bet, that General guy said he’d take care of us, set us up real nice. I’m gunna bet that means you can choose a nice shiny new life whenever you want to go.”

Paul averts his gaze and Ted’s temper is slowly slipping when it comes to the man’s avoidance and hesitancy to face him.

“Don’t fucking keep dropping your head. Look at me.” He snaps, rubbing his forehead in frustration as he shifts his weight to his other foot before dropping his arm. “Jesus, just _talk_ to me.”

The other man lifts up his head up to look at Ted again with a solemn gaze. “I don’t _want_ to choose.” He confesses weakly, his eyes swirling with a magnitude of sorrow that Ted can’t even begin to comprehend.

Ted sighs in exasperation. “But _why_ , Paul? You can’t be serious about still wanting to live in Hatchetfield.”

“W-Well-maybe I _am_ serious about it!” the other argues back feebly.

“ _Well_ Paul, it doesn’t matter because I highly doubt it’s going to be open for the population now! And on top of that, you really want to live in a place where everyone died?” Ted raises his voice heatedly, working himself up more and more at the thought of his only surviving friend living alone in a ghost town. “You wanna live in a city with a population of fuckin’ one!?”

“ _Yes!_ ” Paul shouts back, stunning Ted into silence. “ _Yes,_ I do because it’s the only thing _I have left!_ It’s the only thing I know and I-I don’t know what I’m supposed to do if I can’t even have my stupid town with my stupid routines and my stu-my _stupid_ job!” he exclaims with wide eyes, breaths coming out heavy with emotional strain.

Ted doesn’t know what to say.

Paul crumples under the weight of the silence he has invoked, and he closes his eyes and hangs his head with a shaky exhale. “I-I don’t _have_ anything else Ted. I liked the idea of love, but I realize that I can’t commit to it. I can love but being loved back isn’t possible for me, not in the long-run. Most of my friends are gone. My job is gone. My…everything I had to just keep me going every day is-” he chokes, a hand moves up to clench his tie tightly. “It’s _gone._ ”

“Why does this all matter, Paul?” Ted asks him seriously, placing a hand onto the man’s shoulder in an effort to ground the other. “You can get a new job, a new fuckin’ coffee place, a new- “

“I don’t think I can.”

Ted freezes.

“What’s _that_ supposed to mean?” he asks, voice low.

Paul has since averted his gaze which means Ted can’t see his expression and that frustrates him more than anything else in this conversation. Those words just keep echoing in his brain about how his friend and coworker has never been happy. The worst part is, Ted knows those words can’t be a lie, because the music invokes and reaches in the deepest parts of someone and brings it out. Paul would never sing in a musical if the man could help it, and it’s truly something horrible that Ted knows about this sinking depression from something that was forced out of the man’s throat.

“It means that I…I don’t want-I _can’t_ choose. I don’t know a single damn thing about what I want.” Paul confesses, his posture tense under Ted’s grip. “I don’t think there’s _anything_ out there for me Ted… “he admits in a whisper. “I don’t think I’ll ever find…” he trails off, a choppy exhale stuttering out of his mouth that sounds too close to crying.

“Happiness.” Ted finishes softly for him, and all Paul can do is nod in admission.

He didn’t know.

He just didn’t fucking know his friend was suffering like this. Had been suffering like this for a long time, from the sounds of it. Ted wants to shout at him for not telling any of them. They could have helped maybe; they could have tried. But now they were down most of their crew and Ted is left to pick up the pieces that he helped scatter to begin with.

He doesn’t know how to make this right. He doesn’t know how to make Paul want to try. He doesn’t know how to make Paul want to start a new life when this one is already so hard for him. He doesn’t know how to fix this.

“Paul?” Ted calls gently to the man. “You’re not going to be alone in this, alright?” he promises.

“Ted- “

“No just listen for a second. You know I’m not a great guy Paul, hell I’m the first one to admit it alright? But I think I’ve done my fair share of running.”

Paul raises a hesitant hand to rest on Ted’s own, which is still resting on the man’s shoulder. “I don’t blame you for that Ted.” He murmurs quietly, sincerity lining every one of his words.

Ted pauses, squinting in disbelief. “You don’t blame me for fucking leaving you to die and running away?”

“It’s the apocalypse, there isn’t a right way to do things. You were scared. It’s alright, Ted.”

That doesn’t actually make it okay, and it really only makes Ted more mystified by Paul’s true goodness of character. This man really shouldn’t exist. The fact that he’s the one suddenly being comforted only really speaks about their personalities and Ted decides if there was ever a time to step up, it’s now.

“Paul, I’m not leaving you alone okay?” he continues, squeezing the man’s shoulder to show his sincere intentions. “You’re not going to be alone, not again. I’m gonna make sure of that.”

Paul lifts his head, hesitant. “I…I really don’t like being alone.” He agrees weakly, looking all too fragile in this moment.

“Yeah, I figured.” Ted sighs. “Come here.” He mutters, pulling the man into a hug, cradling the back of his head with one hand. “We’re all we’ve got now, right? I’m going to be someone you can rely on; I mean it this time. Just let me take it from here for a bit, we’ll figure this stuff out.”

“Okay...” Paul says, voice slightly muffled by Ted’s shirt, hands coming up to return the embrace. “Okay.” He repeats in a whisper.

He damn well means it. He’s not leaving his friend here and he is sure as hell going to become someone better. He survived this mess and that means he owes it to Charlotte and Bill and especially to Paul to become someone better. Someone trustworthy. Someone reliable.

He’d do it for them, and for himself.

He hugs his friend a little tighter, relishing in the moment of just being alive when his dark eyes meet Emma’s gaze from across the way. She has a soda can in her hand, her eyes frozen on them in surprise. Eventually though, she smiles at him, her eyes lighting up in relief and happiness. Maybe it’s because she knows another survivor. Maybe it’s because she knows now that when she moves on, she won’t have to be worried about Paul staying behind. Who knows what maybe it is, but Ted returns her smile with his own lopsided one and a small nod.

They will all be okay, Ted knows now.

Happiness is something they can figure out, no matter how long it takes.

**Author's Note:**

> I love this musical so much, and I fully believe there needs to be more fics in for it so here I am with a quick one shot. 
> 
> Paul's character and his tidbits of backstory in the musical make me really sad for him, and he deserves a bit of comfort. As cute as I think Paul/Emma is, I actually don't think they are suuuper feasible as a true couple (Black Friday only actually slightly confirmed that for me) but I think they also deserve to still have a very close relationship regardless of its title.
> 
> It's nice to imagine even a little bit what would happen if some of them survived, but the implications are also rather sad. It's a bit rushed but I just couldn't resist writing something up quick while I'm back on my musical bs I will likely do more if some of you like it :') Thank you for reading!


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